Forgotten Brothers
by CrownedinJune
Summary: A look at how the Bat-Family specifically Damian copes with the events of Batman #55 where Nightwing was shot and subsequently lost a large portion of his memory.
1. Chapter 1

Today was one of those ideal spring days with strong sunshine, few clouds, and a slight breeze. Damian even observed birds flitting about the perfectly manicured lawn of Wayne Manor from where he sat in the window seat of his bedroom. The perfection of the day only darkened Damian's mood further. He'd arrived last night and spent most of the night sharing a vigil with Barbara over his brother's bed. Damian rubbed his eye quickly, telling himself it was lingering sleep rather than a sudden tear. When Alfred had called to tell Damian about the attempted assassination of Dick, he had left the Teen Titans as quickly as he could. He'd arrived while the surgery was being finished then spent the evening at his bedside. He stood and stretched now. The tea that Alfred had brought sat mostly untouched and now cold. To appease any worries of the butler, Damian dumped the tea in the sink of the attached bathroom then headed downstairs. Alfred was in the kitchen and staring blankly at some freshly rinsed carrots. Damian set his cup and saucer on the counter loud enough to make Alfred look up.

"Forgive me, Master Damian. Is there something you needed?"

Damian shook his head, "Is Barbara still with him?"

"Yes. She was a few minutes ago."

"And father?"

"Still abed. Though I suspect he will be up soon. I'm amazed he's managed to sleep two hours as it is."

"I'm amazed he managed to go into Gotham at all last night." Damian said. Alfred frowned at the bitterness of Damian's tone.

"Your father is not good at sitting still and worrying. He does best expending his nervous energy."

Damian scoffed, "I thought it would be different for his son."

Alfred sighed and Damian regretted taking his grumpiness and anger at his father out on Alfred, but it was not in his nature to apologize even when he wished he could.

"I suppose father's here at least. Grayson's other supposed brothers are nowhere to be seen."

"Master Damian, the family does not need division during this time. Your anger serves no purpose."

"Dick would be here if they were hurt. If it were Drake or Todd."

"I'm sure both will be here as soon as they are able."

Damian scoffed again.

"Would you take this tea up to Miss Gordon?"

"Sure." Damian picked up the tea cup (a silver rimmed antique with grey roses on the side) and saucer then headed to the downstairs bedroom. This had been more convenient than relocating Grayson to his bedroom upstairs. Barbara was looking at her tablet and was evidently exhausted.

"Hey, Damian. Couldn't sleep?"

Damian shook his head. He had left long enough to shower and spend a few minutes trying to rest. He'd caught a little sleep throughout the night.

"Pennyworth sent this for you." Damian said, offering the cup.

"Thanks. I need a boost."

"He should wake up soon."

"Yeah. He should." Barbara agreed. She set aside her tablet and sighed, "This never gets easier. I know we have risks with the job, but it doesn't make it easier to watch people you love get hurt."

Barbara took a deep breath. Damian had never been close with Barbara despite her closeness with Dick, but he granted her capabilities respect and her loyalty had meant something.

"We'll have our work cut out for us tracking this guy down." Barbara said, "Bruce probably will leave to chase him soon. Next few days."

Damian was torn over this. He wanted to stay with Dick as after a head injury like this, he would need help, but he wanted to punish the party responsible.

"It's best he pursues quickly."

"Yeah. While the trail is fresh. We'll need some people on hand in Gotham while he's gone."

Damian did not snap at this placation even though it felt like he was being treated like a child. And while he was disciplined and dedicated, he could recognize his bad temper and knew his self-control may slip in this situation. Damian sighed.

"Has he woken up yet?" Father asked this as he came in the room. He looked haggard, but they all did.

"Not yet." Barbara said. Bruce sat on the other side if the bed. There were four chairs around the bed as their attempt to hold vigil in shifts had not worked. No one except Alfred (who always took care of the family) had left his bedside for more than a halfhour at a time. Until late last night when Father had gone into the city.

"Leslie is coming by this morning." Father said. Barbara nodded. They settled into silence and Damian watched Grayson breathe. His mind was wandering through all the things he needed to do then drifting further back to his time as Robin with Grayson as Batman. Grayson had been his first and only friend and recalling that made Damian angry at the absences of the other brothers all over again. He huffed just as Barbara gasped. He looked and saw Dick beginning to open his eyes. He straightened with a sudden lightness.

"Dick." Father was saying, leaning over him. Dick made a soft groan of pain.

Barbara was leaning over the opposite side and as much as Damian pressed closer to Barbara so he could see him better.

Dick struggled to sit up and looked at Barbara then Bruce, but something was wrong. Why wasn't he smiling? Why didn't he say something?

"What? Where am I?"

"You're home. You're safe." Father said, reaching to pat Dick's shoulder. Dick leaned away from the touch, "This . . ." Dick began, "I don't understand. Who are you?"

Damian's throat felt constricted, but he found himself speaking anyway, "Dick, we're your family. You know us." Dick met his eyes and Damian saw no recognition in his eyes. None of the exuberance that should be there. Just analysis as he tried to decide if he knew Damian or not. Damian opened his mouth to say more, but Dick said, "I don't . . . I'm sorry. I don't know you." Damian left with this, blowing past Alfred and his tray of muffins and coffee. He knew there was no excuse for the burning in his eyes and didn't care enough to comfort himself with one. When he reached his room, he found no escape so he went downstairs to the cave. It was here, punching his way through training dummies, that his Father found him an hour later.

"Damian." Damian did not acknowledge him, but delivered another kick to a dummy's head.

"Damian." His father repeated. Damian huffed a breath and punched the dummy one last time. He looked at his father and he wanted to feel pity for how haggard he looked and for that obvious hurt in his eyes. Damian looked away, "What?"

"Dick doesn't recall much. Yet. Leslie is on the way. Barbara and Alfred are with Dick right now. He knows who he is and some about his childhood, but it seems the bulk of his life is forgotten for now."

Damian snorted, "What are the chances? The bullet doesn't kill him, doesn't leave him braindead. I thought we were lucky. But . . .he doesn't even know who we are."

"We are lucky. He's still Dick Grayson. Even if he doesn't remember us. At least he's alive."

Damian laughed bitterly, "At least." He swallowed against the wash of emotion, "This isn't fair." He knew life was hardly fair. The idea of anything being fair had never really occurred to him until he lived with his Father.

"Damian. I know this is hard, but-."

"He doesn't deserve this. He was here to help you. All he does he help the rest of us and he gets hurt. Maybe it's better this way. At least he wont lose anything else this way."

Hia father sighed, "We just have to be optimistic."

Damian gave another bitter laugh and his father sighed again, "I know that seems unhelpful, but Dick has always believed in optimism."

Damian went back to the training dummy. His father lingered a moment longer then left.

Damian avoided the others for a few hours, waiting for a chance to speak with Dick. Some immature part of him had crafted a fantasy that if he could just speak to Dick, then he would remember. The fantasy felt so possible that when Barbara finally left Dick's side, he almost expected Dick to greet him with a sudden remembrance. Of course, Dick only looked at him without recognition and maybe a little annoyance.

"You're Damian, right?"

"Yeah."

"Bruce's son. So my brother."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry I don't remember you."

Damian did not know what to say to this, but Dick as usual worked through the lull.

"It's going to take a while to get used to this place. It's huge."

"Yeah."

"I know this is going to be kinda tough since we used to be close."

"Did Bruce tell you that?"

"I guessed. I mean you were here when I woke up."

"I just wanted to assure you were okay. I wish you the best, Grayson. The Wayne Family has never been very close so there's no need to apologize."

"I . . . I am sorry."

"Like I said, it's nothing. I only came by to tell you goodbye. I have business to attend to so I'm leaving now. " Damian left the room with this. He could tell by his last glimpse at Dick, even without remembering Damian, that his brother didn't believe him. Grayson didn't need to believe it though; Damian did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Hello, this piece is the first fanfiction I've ever attempted and I was very surprised to have such instant feedback. I appreciate UnknownRyder, Waterdragon1123, and for following this story. It made the writing process of this new chapter fly by. Also thanks to Inthenightguest who left such a kind review! I'm not sure exactly where I'm going next with this story. I think I would like to see something Barbara's perspective, but I'm open to suggestions. **

Alfred heard the raised voices, but had no energy to even sight at the conflict taking place. Damian was just like his father in far too many ways and when the boy had first come to the manor, Alfred had hoped to avoid some of the mistakes he had made with Bruce. However, with all children, one made mistakes and Damian came with more harshness and ferocity than Bruce had. Of course, as with all the young men and women who had come through the house, Alfred had the benefit of being a grandfather rather than the father and could smooth things over between the children and Bruce. Alfred passed the entryway of the living room and whether either of the Waynes within noticed him, he went by unaddressed. He came into the kitchen and set the picked over platter on the counter. Dr. Thompkins had left less than half an hour ago and Alfred guessed this was the source of the latest argument between Damian and Bruce. There were numerous issues between the pair since Damian's restructure of the Teen Titans team and the shift in his ideology, but Dick's injury had been enough to bring Damian home so he'd hoped for some peace between the two. Alfred heard storming feet on the stairs then a distant door slam. He was used to this sound since each child had some occasion for this reaction. Bruce trailed into the kitchen shortly afterwards.

"Anything I can do for you, Master Bruce?"

"No. Not unless you've got some secret for headstrong teenagers that you've kept secret all these years."

"I'm afraid not, sir." Alfred started putting away the leftovers from the platter. More to keep his hands busy and his eyes averted while his eldest charge began the always difficult process of speaking about his emotions.

Bruce leaned against a counter and pinched the bridge of his nose, "It's tough on everyone. I wish I could convince Damian of that. That he's not suffering alone."

Alfred was glad Bruce had shut his eyes as he could not help his surprised expression at this empathetic approach.

Alfred tried to offer genuine advice though, "Perhaps it feels tougher for Damian as he had no friends other than Dick for a long time and he has been a guide for Damian in some of the difficult times. Now Dick . . . doesn't remember any of that so even if Damian can rationalize that this is abandonment is unintentional, it doesn't lessen his feelings."

"I know. I know. It's . . . like I said it's hard on everyone."

Alfred found energy for that sigh now, "Master Dick has long being our bright spot. Even in his darker moments, he could still rally us." Alfred knew that capability had served this family with more than its share of brooders very well. Honestly, it was a wonder that the boy hadd maintained any sense of levity when his father figure was so prone to such dark introspection and paranoia.

"He's still . . . He's so damned optimistic about this! Even when we told him about so much of his life just being forgotten. He didn't even seem worried when Leslie told him there was a chance that part of his brain would not recover. His memory capabilities could be permanently affected and he could . . ." Bruce trailed off, realizing he was repeating the bleak news that Alfred had already heard.

"I know, sir. I take some comfort in it though. Even with such awful news, Dick is still himself: optimistic and determined. He's still himself in so many ways."

Bruce nodded, but swallowed back emotions, "Damian said something earlier that . . . it resonated. He told me that maybe it was better this way since if Dick didn't remember us, he wouldn't sacrifice so much trying to keep us safe."

"Master Bruce, this isn't your fault." Alfred stopped in his work now and looked directly at Bruce.

"He wouldn't have been there if he hadn't been trying to cheer me up. Trying to make a dent in all my self-absorption!"

"You've told me yourself that you think they were targeting him. He would've been in danger even if he had not been present in Gotham."

"He was still being targeted because of his connection to me. Damian is right that Dick has sacrificed so much of himself not just for this cause, but for this family. I almost don't want to tell him about being Nightwing. If I close that part from him then-."

"Then he will inevitably find out and resent your attempts to shield him." Alfred interrupted. This was not the first time Bruce would've attempted such a foolish approach and there was no already established trust to fall back on if Dick perceived this as a betrayal.

Bruce sighed again, "I'd best keep working on trying to figure out who did this. Barbara is still with him. Damian . . . says he's leaving. Said he already told Dick goodbye."

Alfred shook his head, "I see, sir."

"I won't stop him." Bruce said as if convincing himself.

"Would you like your coffee downstairs or will you be working on the case elsewhere?"

"Downstairs." Bruce said.

"Very good, sir." Bruce left him and Alfred starting preparing coffee. No matter how much practice he had at maintaining his British stiff upper lip, it never became easier to watch those charged to his care struggle so much. He opened a cabinet to retrieve a coffee mug and on a glimmer of memory, took more than a few out to access the back. A plain white mug with a bat symbol painted on it and Dick's tidy handwriting (steady even at eleven when he'd made this) claiming, "World's Best Batman". It had been made for the cave as having such blatantly bat related paraphernalia upstairs would have aggravated Bruce's paranoia. However, as the years had passed and Batman's presence had become more mainstream to the point where such a thing might have been sold and in the steady traffic of coffee cups to and from the cave, the cup had made its way upstairs. Alfred smiled at the memory of the young boy, painting the cup in the secrecy of the cave for Father's Day. He always did some handmade gift for Bruce, no matter what else he might've bought. Alfred replaced the cup since he could not subject Bruce to the reminder. Alfred poured a different cup full and place that and the carafe on a tray. He comforted himself with the knowledge that if anyone could overcome such odds, it would be Dick.

After delivering coffee, he went to the downstairs guest room where Dick was (and fleetingly wondered if moving him to his old room might trigger something) to check in. Barbara was leaving and offered him a weak smile.

"Is everything alright, Miss Gordon?" It was a question with an obvious answer, but he asked it anyway.

"As good as I can be, I guess."

"I can make you tea or coffee if you think it would help."

"I appreciate it, Alfred, but I think I'm going to head back into the city. I'll be back this evening for a while."

"Of course, Miss Gordon. Drive safely."

"Will do." Barbara's exhaustion was evident, but she offered another smile. Alfred stepped into the room. Dick offered him a reflexive smile and cheerful greeting, "Hello, Mr. Pennyworth." Dick had not addressed him so formally since he'd first come to the manor and been more than a little shocked by his new surroundings.

"Just Alfred, if you please, sir."

"Sure thing, Alfred."

"I only wanted to assure you did not need anything." Alfred asked.

"No. I'm good right now. You've definitely kept me more than well fed."

"It is my duty, sir. You're recovering and need your nourishment."

"Yeah. Maybe not all in one meal though."

Alfred smiled at this typical statement.

"If not food, is there anything else you'd like? A book? Newspaper? I think there are more than a few of those gaming systems around."

"Nothing right now."

"If you think of anything, you need only let me know. You were shown how to operate the intercom system?"

"Uh, yeah. I guess this place is pretty huge?"

Alfred's smile faltered now as any sense of familiarity faded, "Yes, sir. When you are a little stronger, perhaps tomorrow, we can have a brief tour. Just so you can be acquainted with the layout."

"Yeah. That'd be good. Maybe it'll help me remember."

"I hope so, sir. But let's worry about your physical recovery before that of memory."

Dick nodded. Some of that cheerfulness had faded and Alfred faulted himself for this as Dick had always been perceptive of the emotions of those around him.

"Thanks, Mr. - Alfred. I appreciate everything you've done. It must be kind of weird for everybody. Me not remembering. I know Bruce seems pretty tightly wound right now."

"Master Bruce is usually tightly wound, sir."

Dick laughed at this, "Maybe so. I know he's struggling with it. And Damian, he seemed upset over it. Really upset, but I just . . . I'm not sure what to say to him."

"I . . . You have long had the misfortune of being one of the few in this family who is comfortable with expressing emotions besides anger. It is little comfort to you, but that is not directed at you. It is not your responsibility to wade through their troubles. It is your responsibility to focus on recovery."

"Right."

"Call me if you have need of anything, Master Dick."

"Sure thing. Thanks, Alfred." Alfred left the room and tried to think of some chore to soothe his mind. Of course, there was nothing to put this problem away, but he knew even in the awful eventuality that Dick did not remember, he had a duty to care for this boy who had reached Bruce even through that obsession with his personal crusade. The boy who had always been a light and had reached his brothers with that same consistent love. Because even if Dick did not remember, Alfred did.


	3. Chapter 3

**This chapter is a little shorter than the others, but I think it turned out better than I expected. Thanks to those following the story: Andromedaspearprincess18, lunamoon99, squidoge, , waterdragon1123, and unkownRyder and also all the other who have taken the time to read it. I'm thinking the next chapter will be from Dick's perspective to wrap things up. Happy Reading!**

"So . . ." Dick began. He was drumming his fingers and tapping along to inaudible music. It was so familiar and painful to watch for Barbara, but she had just mastered her first wash of tears and was trying to maintain a level of control over her emotions. Especially since it was just her and Dick at this moment.

He gave her a slight smile that seemed so perfect for this moment, but then said, "Were we just good friends or were we dating?"

Barbara answered his smile with a faltering grin of her own, "Somewhere in between." She lied, but how were you supposed to explain that they'd always been good friends and even when they weren't officially together, they knew they could rely on each other? There was no way to explain the bond between them from back when there wasn't the expansive vigilante network, but only Bruce and a couple of headstrong teenagers in over their heads. He'd been there when she was learning how to live with her paralysis and he'd been there when she'd been fortunate enough to have her implant then struggled to walk again. Even when they were seeing other people, there was friendship in some form. His smile was completely gone now as if he knew how much she was holding back.

"Ah, well, I was a lucky guy to even get that far." Dick said in a quick recovery of some of his usual charm.

Barbara laughed, "Maybe so."

"It's weird hearing all these stories about me. I wish I could remember it. It sounds like something out of movie: orphaned circus acrobat adopted by billionaire, dating a gorgeous red-head."

"You have no idea." Barbara said. He was flirting so he must have physically been feeling well. They had not broached the issue of the night work yet so Barbara did not want to do it now. Bruce would have had a panic attack if such a discussion were had without him. The only reason he had stepped out now was to locate Damian who had stormed out shortly after Dick woke up.

Dick leaned back on the pillows and looked at his hands where they rested on his lap, "I wonder if I'll remember any of it."

"I . . . Dr. Thompkins will be here soon. She'll know more about it. And there's experts on this sort of thing that can be consulted."

Dick nodded, "And I guess Bruce can afford them."

"Yeah. He definitely can."

"It's . . . nice that everyone was here when I woke up. I mean I don't know anything for sure, but I know that at least people cared about me."

"Care." She corrected, "People care about you. A lot of people."

"Yeah." He agreed with a smile. Barbara almost hated to see that quick and easy smile since it almost made her believe that he did remember.

"Even if it takes a while for everything to come back to you, we'll be here." She leaned forward to grab his hand, "I'll be here."

He smiled still, but it wavered like a flickering flame, "Thanks, Barbara."

"I mean it, Dick. We've . . . we've made it through a lot together. This is just one more thing."

"Doesn't feel like it right now. It feels like a big thing."

Barbara nodded, withdrawing her hand, "I guess that is pretty crappy advice. When . . . A few years ago, I . . . had an accident and it damaged my spinal cord. I was never supposed to walk again. I was in a wheelchair for a year and while I was learning to live that way, people would give me that sort of advice all the time. 'Don't worry, you're strong enough to overcome this' or 'I know it's tough now, but'. Sometimes that recycled motivational poster garbage made me want to hit someone. Sometimes it felt like pity. Then I had to go through it all over again when I got the implant so I would walk again." Memory or no memory, Dick's eyes still seemed to broadcast his emotions and dig deep into hers. He nodded now, "What did you do? To actually help yourself get through it?"

"Well, I just kept throwing myself into it, I guess. Whenever I found something I couldn't do, I figured out how I could. And like my dad is always fond of saying: Gordons never give up! It's cheesy, but it's kind of what you have to do. Even when it's hard."

Dick laughed and again it was so familiar that her heart ached, "It is cheesy, but it's good advice."

"Thanks." Dick nodded, but covered a yawn.

"Get some rest, Dick." Barbara said, standing up, "Leslie's gonna be here in less than an hour and she's going to poke and prod so you should get some rest."

"Yeah. Good idea."

"I'll be here though. I promise."

"Thanks, Barbara. See you later."

"Yeah. Later." Barbara left the room and as soon as the door shut behind her, she took a deep breath. She knew no one would've faulted her for a few tears. Not even Dick. Especially not Dick. He had never needed her to be strong. But Barbara did.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Sorry for the long break. I got a little bogged down in life/work/school, but I finally finished this chapter. There will be one more after this from Bruce's perspective. I appreciate the reviews, follows, and favorites. This support means so much to me. If anyone wants to offer suggestions for which Batman characters that you'd like to see fanfiction for, I'd love that. I certainly want to continue writing and have a few ideas, but some input would be awesome! **

This place could not have possibly been home. No matter what everyone told him. Dick only could remember a vague notion of home: a cozy trailer decorated brightly and always filled with laughter, conversation, and music. As he moved down the cold and cavernous halls of the manor, he couldn't imagine any laughter in this place. He'd been here four days and heard about what was supposed to be his life and the more he heard, the less he could really believe it. It sounded like a movie or something. He'd just began exploring the place yesterday, starting with the rooms Alfred had thought would be most useful :the kitchen, a nearby living room (there were several such dens and parlors) and the butler's own rooms. Today he was moving about unassisted. He'd explored a lot of the downstairs, finding an indoor pool, a ballroom, and even a home theater. Nothing was tacky, but it was all luxurious to the point Dick felt like a bum in his sweatpants and t-shirt. He was thinking about tackling the second floor now, but he was not sure he was really up for stairs yet. That was when he saw the elevator tucked to one side. He stepped in and leaned against the wall while it took him to the second floor. The second floor was a little homier feeling than the first. There were no marble floors, but shining polished wood. He went down one wing, poking his head in open doors. There weren't many of those. He found an office and a guest bedroom. Nothing exciting. He went down the other wing and saw Bruce emerging from one of the rooms. He managed a smile even if he felt even less at ease with the man after touring the grandness of the house.  
"Good morning."  
"Good morning." Bruce replied, but he was frowning.  
"Dick, did you at least take the elevator?"  
"Yeah. Never seen an in house elevator before." Dick said then instantly regretted it as Bruce looked pained by this.  
"I just wanted to see the upstairs."  
"Do you feel well enough?"  
"Yeah. I figure I can always find a place to sit when I get tired."  
"Right. Well, I can show you around."  
"Sounds good." Dick said even if he wasn't sure it was. It would be painful. Painful for Bruce when Dick didn't remember and painful for Dick because he felt like he disappointed his family (even if he didn't know them) everyday.  
"Well, this is my room." Bruce said with a gesture behind him to the still open door, "And across the hall is your room." Bruce crossed the hall and opened the door. Dick obligingly followed him inside. The room had an interesting assortment of items that provided color and personality even if Dick did not recognize the personality. The area rug was old, but well maintained with a pattern involving the hues of a peacock, there was a green arm chair by an apparently old bookshelf, the bedspread was blue, and pictures on the wall of family, a framed pencil drawing of an elephant, and then over the bed a framed poster of his family. The Flying Graysons. That drew Dick to it as the only thing (besides the elephant drawing) familiar.  
"I thought I lived in Bludhaven?" Dick asked. Why would he leave this here?  
"You do, but Alfred keeps your room up here. All of your siblings have a room." Bruce said. Dick nodded, but was transfixed on the bright outfits the people wore on the poster. He could recall them glimmering under the lights as they soared through the air. When he managed to look back to Bruce, he immediately had to turn away from the man's hopeful expression. He didn't know the faces in the other picture frames. He didn't recognize all the things that must have been personal touches.  
"Wow, I guess I liked bright colors huh?" He said, looking at an tiffany glass lamp on the desk.  
"Yeah. Brighter the better."  
"Huh." Dick felt his disconnect sharply now. This was supposed to be his space and none of it was.  
"Dick?" Bruce asked with a gentle pat on his shoulder.  
"Guess I'm more tired than I thought." Dick said.  
"Then let's get you back downstairs."

However, once he was settled physically in the bed, his mind was definitely unsettled.  
How was he supposed to stay here? Even if Bruce and Barbara said they would stay with him. Said they would rebuild these relationships. He knew everyday would be building what they used to have even if they could never actually have it back. Dick sighed and laid back down. This would never be home. He sat up suddenly. It didn't have to become his home though. Dick didn't remember it and he had a future ahead.


	5. Chapter 5

**The final chapter. Sorry that it's take so long to complete, but I appreciate everyone who's read this. I will probably continue writing some Batfam fanfics, but I'm not at a point where it will be a regular schedule. I hope everyone enjoys this final chapter!**

Bruce heard Alfred come into the cave, but he was focused on his work. He had not dedicated enough time to finding Dick's shooter because between Dick's recovery and amnesia and of course Bruce's usual double life of CEO and vigilante. He'd made some headway and knew it was time to leave Gotham and get on the trail.  
"Master Bruce." From Alfred's tone, Bruce knew he had repeated himself.  
"Yes, Alfred?"  
"There's a situation upstairs that requires your attention."  
"In a moment."  
"It's best you go now, sir."  
"Is it Dick? Is he okay?"  
"Yes. But you will want to speak with him now." Bruce rose from his chair. He was stiff, but he was always stiff whether from poring over a case or getting involved in the physical aspect of the job.  
"Where is he?"  
"His room. He made a call for a taxi about five minutes ago."  
"A taxi?" Bruce's heart started beating faster. He knew what this meant, but he hadn't expected it.  
"Yes, sir."  
Bruce started up the stairs. He knew that Dick had seemed unsettled this morning by the unfamiliar surroundings, but he was still recovering so Bruce couldn't understand this sudden notion to leave. Or maybe he could understand it too well. He'd always pushed past physical discomfort to achieve what needed to be done. His kids had internalized that and Dick… Dick had always been the sort to strike out and see new things. He went to the downstairs guest room where Dick had been staying, but found no one. He started for the foyer after that, hoping to find his eldest on the front step, but hesitated. Alfred had said _his_ room. He still glanced on the front steps (just to be sure), but then headed upstairs and found Dick in the room he'd usually occupied. Dick smiled (a slightly forced expression) and Bruce wanted to believe that he did remember. Of course, it was wishful thinking which Dick confirmed a moment later, "Hey. Guess Mr. Pennyworth sold me out."

"Yes. Where are you going?"

Dick shrugged, "I guess back to Bludhaven."

"You're still healing." Bruce said, "You need to stay here."

"I'm fine. A little weak, but I need to start figuring things out."

"Exactly why you should stay."

Dick sighed as if Bruce was being the unreasonable one, "I get that you're worried, but… I can't stay here. It's too much. Everyone's hovering and even when they're not hovering, I still feel like a fish out of water. This isn't home and I'm sorry it's not since I know it's supposed to be."

"Maybe I could arrange for an apartment in the city." Bruce suggested. Somewhere Dick could be monitored and tended to without feeling suffocated.

Dick shook his head, "I'd rather make it one my own. That's the fun of things, isn't it? Flying without a net."

Bruce sighed, "Dick…I don't think it's a good idea."

Dick shrugged, but grinned slightly, "Maybe not, but I really just want to go find out who I am without having to deal with the expectations of who I should be." The smile faded now, "I'm not trying to hurt anybody, but the truth is, I need to leave. For my own sake." Dick's very blue eyes were practically pleading with him now. Bruce sighed again. Dick had always been one to follow his heart and sometimes- especially when Dick was young- those very convincing blue eyes had made Bruce dismiss logic and follow his heart too.

"I understand. If you need anything though, you can call me." Bruce started to reach for his wallet to hand him a business card, but Dick had already produced one from his own pocket.

"Yeah. Mr. Pennyworth gave all that to me. Thanks, Bruce. I appreciate you worrying."

"I…Be safe, Dick."

"I will." Dick headed for the door with a single small bag slung over his shoulder and that easy grin. That foolhardy confidence that worried Bruce and made him proud at the same time, "See you around."

"See you around." Bruce replied. The door shut behind Dick and Bruce sat on the bed. He was not one to really indulge in wishful thinking. The facts were the facts and Batman only worked with facts. He'd witness strange things in his lifetime so there was always a chance – even if a small one- that Dick would recover his memories and all would be well. Even with that chance, Bruce wasn't sure he believed it would happen, but for a few moments he allowed himself the hope that when Dick came back to the manor, he'd be his usual upbeat self with puns and that dauntless affection. He wasn't sure how long he sat in Dick's room, just thinking about the young man who had grown up in it, but Alfred came to interrupt.

"Master Bruce, if you intend to eat before leaving this evening, you'd best come down."

"Right. Thanks, Alfred."

"Of course, sir."

"Alfred… He didn't deserve this."

"No, sir. He certainly didn't, but if I know Master Dick, he'd want us to be hopeful. Even if none of us are very good at that. And even if he does not remember us, I have no doubt that he will still be a man we can be proud of."

"He will." Bruce said, "He's always been that."


End file.
